Intimacy
by dreaming-in-pretenses
Summary: They have an understanding that surpasses words. Adam/Clare


Title: Intimacy  
>CharactersCouples: Adam/Clare  
>Rating: PG-15<br>Warnings: Pretty descriptive sex, possible gender dysphoria trigger  
>Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi.<br>Summary: They have an understanding that surpasses words. Adam/Clare

**"Intimacy"**  
><strong>By: dreaming-in-pretenses<strong>

She's perched in between his legs, the girl of soft curls and denim. She's always been so silently strong, so quietly opinionated - not one to argue mindlessly all day, but one who gets to the point, who says what she needs to say in as few words as possible.

And this time is no different. No sound escapes her mouth, but she conveys all she needs to say through her lips and her wandering tongue.

He's lying on his back, hands intertwined in those gorgeous curls, all at once stuck between pushing her away and pulling her even closer to him. He can hear her message loud and clear - but its quiet honesty is scaring him more than he cares to admit. She's sending him so many promises of love, of acceptance, of understanding - this girl, who he had always secretly desired but never thought he could have, this girl who always accepted him and understood him the way no one else could. Of all the people in the world, _she_ was the one he had most wanted to share this intimacy with. And yet, of all the people in the world, _she_ was the one he had least wanted to see him this way.

He isn't even sure how it happened, how an innocent movie night between two barely-more-than-friends ended in the shy, sweet, innocent girl taking off his boxers and making him feel things he hadn't even known were possible. Yet here they are, _together_ in ways he had always fantasized about but had never dared to dream of. And it feels amazing, just like he always imagined - or maybe even better, because _god is Clare good with her tongue_.

But still, no matter how amazing it feels, one thing is still different from his imagination and this reality: himself.

"Clare," he moans, feeling himself coming close to the end, "Clare, wait, I-I'm gonna cum."

He's sure she's redder than a tomato, but she manages to keep her voice calm as she whispers against him, "Good, I want you to…to feel good."

"No," he whispers, trying to keep his voice steady. His voice is getting softer and softer, but he can't give in to this sudden urge to cry. Whether it's because of how scarily intimate this all feels, or because of how suddenly aware he is of how easily this intimacy could destroy him, he can't cry. Not in front of the girl he always loved. Not when they're in the middle of having sex for the first time. It's not…

_manly_.

And isn't that the problem here? She always saw him as a male, before he came out and afterwards. Her perception of him never changed. But now she's unveiling every inch of him, witnessing for herself parts of him he never wished to possess. And it's scary and unnerving and horrifying, and no matter how many promises of love and understanding she sends him, he can't shake this feeling that her understanding will come to an end. Even Clare Edwards' admirable acceptance of everyone and tolerance for everything can't change his body. What if this goes on so long she stops seeing him as the man he knows he is?

Somewhere, deep down inside him, he knows he won't be able to go on if he loses the connection between them. If she starts to see him as someone else. If she stops loving him for who he is.

"Please…" he gasps, as he pulls lightly against her curls. It's all he can get out, but luckily she hears the hitch in his voice and glances up. Her eyes widen when she sees how watery his eyes are, and within seconds he finds himself cradled in her arms.

"Oh no! I did something wrong! I'm so sorry!"

"No…" he whispers against her shirt. "You did nothing wrong. It's me. I-I couldn't handle you being down there, l-looking at…me."

She pulls him back slightly and stares, confused and slightly hurt, into his eyes. "But I thought you were enjoying it all this time? Why did you let me do that to you if you didn't want it?"

"I did want it, it was…good." Now it's his turn to blush, but fortunately she's too busy being concerned to even pay attention to his cheeks. "It's just…I don't know Clare. I can't – I can't finish with you there. It's not you. You did nothing wrong. It's me. It's my dumb fears. If I came – like that – it's not right. I don't…finish like they do. I don't want you to see me differently because of that."

"But I don't see you differently! I know that your body is different from others, but that doesn't mean anything!"

He looks down, knowing she's right, wanting to let her continue and forget this whole thing happened. But he can't. "I'm sorry, Clare…I'm dumb. I know. I'm just gonna go…"

She silences him with a deep and meaningful kiss, and once again he's caught off-guard by all the promises whispered through it. This isn't the kiss of a horny girl who just wants to get off already; this is the kiss of a girl who loves the guy she's kissing, who knows he can't always do what she might want and accepts it, even if she can't fully understand.

"It's – not – dumb," she says between kisses, "This is pretty special for both of us, and I don't want to do anything you're not going to be fully comfortable with. I'll wait to do that, until you realize that no matter what I'm always gonna see you the same way."

"But I do know that, it's just—"

"_And_," she continues, silencing him with a mischievous wink, "even if you never want to do that, that's fine. We can still show each other that we love each other in other ways. Because I really do love you, Adam, you silly boy."

It's not the "I love you" that does it to him, or even the first time he's heard her say his name since she tasted his skin with her tongue. In the end, it's that casual mention of "boy," tossed in so randomly at the end of the sentence that makes his heart explode with love for her. Those words are so casual, so effortless. It's clear they have no true meaning behind them - not her trying to convince herself she sees him as a man, not her trying to convince _him_ that; just simple, light words that she would easily have used before this night. Nothing has changed between them. She's seen every inch of him, she's touched him in ways he never thought anyone would – and nothing has changed, except he's more in love with her than he ever thought possible.

"I love you too, Clare!" he practically shouts, and kisses her so hard she's seeing stars. But he doesn't need to say how he feels; she can tell from how tightly he's holding her and the passion in his kisses. And when he reaches down underneath her skirt, she can tell that each stroke is made with love, too.

They aren't two teenagers getting off sexual frustration. They are two teenagers reveling in the intimacy of being so close to the one they are most connected to – the one who understands them the most, the one who they can trust with their most secret ideas, hopes, fears, and dreams. The one that changed their life for the better.

They've become so close that Clare doesn't need to say a thing for Adam to see that she's loving everything he's doing. And all Clare needs is a nod from Adam to see that she too can reach in between his legs to make him feel good. This way, she can't see what's down there; this way, his fears are almost entirely abated. Rubbing each other this way is not quite as sexual, he supposes, but in a way it's better, because they can look into each other's eyes and kiss each other as much as they want.

A few moans; a few sighs; and they find themselves cradled in each other's arms, holding each other as close as possible and bathing in the euphoric afterglow.

There are no words spoken;

What they have is much deeper.


End file.
